


Comes With Instructions

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a larger partner isn't a problem when your 'parts' are interchangeable... dealing with an impromptu visit from a partner's room mate on the other hand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comes With Instructions

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing with my life srsly?  
> (Writing about Robot dick that's what)  
> If you're name's Kat Sykes and you're reading this then I [/i] promise [/i] I'll let you have whatever kitchen cupboards you like just please don't tell the others I write stuff like this (especially Jessie) ily kthnxbai 
> 
> AU where Skids and Getaway are apparently room mates and Red Alert hasn't moved to Luna 1 yet; enjoy!

Skids’ message had Swerve _literally_ galloping over to his hab suite. 

 

_(22.36)Skids: The Package arrived this morning, room mate’s out, wanna come over? ;);) x)_

 

Maybe it was a little cloying but Swerve didn’t care! The excitement stirred up inside him made the minibot buzz; his circuits itched and he was impatient to get to Skids _right now!_  

Trailcutter got mopey when Swerve informed him the bar was closing early. Swerve made the announcement from on top of the works counter, his stubby fingers tented and twitching together nervously as he twittered to the masses of disappointed faces. Secretly, he knew he was doing his faithful patrons a disservice, but showing some selfishness every so often didn’t make him a bad person…pulling the stool from under Trailcutter did. 

Amazingly, the mech righted himself before his aft could clash with the floor. Trailcutter staggered out of the bar grumbling and Swerve, to his credit, leant a sympathetic audio to the disgruntled mech all the way to the door - then promptly closed it. 

The bolts slid firmly into position, after a few hasty attempts the security system boomed into activation - all gun nozzles trained on the main door and Swerve slipped out the side entrance. Conveniently, the side door happened to shave off a little distance from the journey to Skids’. For a regular sized mech it was hardly worth mentioning but in the case of Swerve’s dumpy little legs, every step not taken was energy saved. 

…And where he was heading Swerve most definitely needed the extra energy. 

Just walking down the corridors made Swerve edgy, as if he suspected every one he passed to be suspicious of him even though they had no reason to be. Not unless they detected the slight tremors of anticipation that made Swerve feel clammy in his joints and other unmentionable places. 

“What took you?” Skids opened the door to his sheepish partner.

Keeping his head down, Swerve ushered in, hands wringing together, he couldn’t greet Skids until they were in secure privacy and even then he was interrupted by the sight of a modest parcel sitting in the middle of Skid’s berth. 

“That it?”

“Yup.” Skids’ hands settled on Swerve’s shoulders, and while Swerve ogled the box with wonder he gripped Skids’ fingers. 

“Have you opened it?”  
“Nope. Thought I’d better wait.”

Not entirely true, as Swerve waddled forward to inspect the box he saw evidence of some prying at the corners. It made him happy to realise Skids was just as eager to take a peep inside as he was. 

They mashed open the box together, it was fairly battered already even though it hadn’t travelled far. Skids had made some well coordinated purchases on a space station they stopped at a few months previous - unfortunately it took several weeks to pass through the Lost Lights processing system and with Red Alert back in action the wait was even longer. 

“I’m surprised he let you keep it!” Swerve chimed, cutting at a seam, Skids helped him pull the cardboard wound apart. 

“Me too! You should’ve seen the look on his face!”

“You think he knows what’s inside?” 

“Definitely!” 

That made Swerve cringe, especially since Red Alert had retaken his place as Swerve’s room mate. Oddly, having to share his space again wasn’t as fulfilling as Swerve remembered. The sensitivity of the box’s contents would make an interesting conversation to avoid in the future. Not that Red Alert particularly liked to talk about anything personal, what with the walls having ears and all that nonsense. 

A particularly hard tug from Skids pulled the box in two and out rolled another box - slimmer, sleeker and black, and a brazen picture of a spike (that appeared more like a weapon of war) printed on the front. 

“ _Oooo_ ,”

After a moment of admiration they fiddled with the second box, attending to it with a more delicate touch. It wasn’t as if they’d ever have the opportunity to seek a refund for their product, nevertheless, damaging the box seemed senseless when it was crafted so perfectly to house their interfacing mod and all its extra pieces. 

A keen trill of excitement sounded from Swerve, the front flap of the box flipped open revealing something they’d been waiting a very long time for. Of course he and Skids had interfaced before, they’d managed some pretty unusual positions and a fair few overloads that left Swerve sighing for days and Skids looking smug. However, it was to say that those ‘fair few overloads’ could have been _plenty_ more if only their equipment was more compatible. While the novelty of a size difference had entertained them initially it was starting to wear out. Literally, in some cases. Skids noticed the difference and mentioning it to Swerve was a little embarrassing but luckily Swerve knew of a solution to their problem. 

“It’s smaller than I expected.” By now Skids was removing the spike from the box, it felt flexible and rubbery. Swerve shrugged at his observation.

“I think that was the point…” 

“Yeah but… I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for it in that colour either.” 

“You don’t like yellow?” 

“Well, no, but it’s not that… it just reminds me a bit of traffic cone.” 

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like, it’s what it _does_ ,” Swerve crooned, sliding closer on the berth, wiggling in mock suggestion. Skids couldn’t hold onto his grimace for long. Swerve was like bubbly energy tickling under his plates. 

“What _does_ it do?” The answer to Skids’ question he’d surely find in the thin slip of paper tucked at the bottom of the box. 

“ _There are overloads and then there are Ohhhhh!verloads.”_ At once Swerve erupted in giggles, Skids heartily tugging on his sides, pulling and pushing a little, encouraging him him to read on and discover the features of their new best friend, “…requires two additional power cells.” 

“What? I thought I just… y’know, did the swap and then once it was plugged in away we go.” 

“Apparently not… probably for this whole _rotation_ thingy it mentions, which I _cannot wait_ to try out by the way! The extra power cells must be so it doesn’t drain too much of your energy, _heh,_ good thinking too, I don’t want you finishing after five minutes.” Swerve reached over and patted Skids’ stomach. 

Grumbling, Skids nuzzled his lips to Swerve’s audios.

“That happened one time and you _swore_ you’d never bring it up again.” He shoved off the berth leaving Swerve laughing and headed for a draw full of bits and pieces hoping to find some spare power cells mixed among the clutter. 

“You better not go around telling people that my spike now runs of batteries.” 

“What?! I’m hurt you’d even think that!” Swerve was still grinning, prying open the battery compartment to investigate.

“I know you, I can almost imagine the headlines in next weeks ‘Lost Light Insider’. What size do we need by the way?” Skids asked, squinting back at the false spike. 

“Just two standard.” Swerve had to react quickly, the batteries were soon being flung at him, “There’s a switch here that lets you test it out before you plug it in.” 

“Good.” Skids rested on a side unit, manually releasing his interface, “I don’t wanna be electrocuted. That’s definitely a medical emergency I don’t want to explain to Ratchet.”  

A spring inside pushed his original (and much loved) spike into the open air. It suited him, the (his) spike, matched his paint, and certainly had served him faithfully since his creation. 

“Sorry old friend.” He muttered, low enough so as not to attract Swerve’s undivided attention. Detaching his spike wasn’t an ordeal, it was fairly common, with a firm grasp, a little squeeze and a twist Skids’s spike was now lying loosely in his hand and a shallow hole remained, awaiting a new attachment. 

Coldness tingled in his exposed joints, it was unfamiliar and somewhat disconcerting - Skids wished Swerve would hurry up. 

“It’s not working.” Swerve frowned hard at the new spike, turning it repeatedly and pressing firmly on the testing option. 

“What do you mean?”

“Won’t activate.” 

“Not good. Have you tried swapping the batteries?” In the mean time Skids took to cleaning himself off, giving the seldom stroked seams of his interface a wipe with a polishing chamois. 

“Doin’ it now.” It took upmost concentration. Skids optics roamed over the dumpy ‘bot and marvelled at the intense focus on Swerve’s face as he sat, slotting the batteries into the device one after another. Then pressed the button. 

“Nothing.” He slumped, wagging the slimmer limb back and fore in his hand. 

Skids thought for a moment. 

“Close it up, stick the lid back on it, maybe there’s a safety feature or something… something we’re missing.” 

“I don’t think…” But Swerve did so anyway, picking the hard shape of the battery cover up and locking it into place. The snap of its connection out sounded by a knock on the door. 

Both Skids and Swerve startled, exchanging looks of panic and their EM fields flushing making them appear highly suspicious to Getaway who was barging into the room. 

“Hey Skids,” He began, optics making contact with Swerve first who was getting into a jumble on the berth, flailing his little arms about. 

An odd _ahroooahroooahrooo_ sort of noise in the background caught Getaway’s attention.Before the door could be pushed any further Skids’ foot stopped it. 

“Hey roomie what’s up.” The lower half of his frame pressed against the door also, hiding the gaping hole in his groin, but the chamois covered with oil, unfortunately remained stuck in his visible hand too late for him to disguise. 

“I…uh.” Getaway squinted at Swerve, who’d abruptly hopped on the bed and, soon after, the odd droning sound got louder, angrier. 

Unbeknownst to him, it was the sound of gears in a rotating spike being squashed under a dumpy minibot’s aft. Had he not acted the lively spike would’ve undoubtedly been rolling about the berth in plain sight. 

Swerve felt subtle struggles from the spike trying to twist, it poked into his thigh more and more with ever attempted rotation and the noise continued, louder and louder, blaring in his audios as the heat of embarrassment crept up his neck. 

“Heh-heh,” His smile was wider and more painful than ever. Skids glanced back, at once realising the predicament, his jaw dropped. Waves of Swerve’s second-hand embarrassment crashed over him, or was that the chaos of a nasty shock brewing in his own EM fields? 

“ _UHHH,”_ Skids turned back to Getaway, flummoxed, “I thought you said you were gone all night?!” 

“Yeah I am I just came back to get”-

“No!” Skids resisted Getaway’s second attempt to enter, “Whatever it is get it later.” 

“But”-

“ _Later!”_

Getaway stopped, brow arched and unimpressed until, much to Skids’ relief, his stubbornness drained away. 

“Oh… _Ohhh._ I see.” Getaway gave Skids a little more room, easing off in his efforts to push in, “You young rouges have a nice night.” He slipped out of the room winking, satisfied with the knowledge he’d invented to explain the strange behaviour of his roommate and roommate’s partner. He wouldn’t be far wrong, Skids supposed, and some how Skids preferred the possible fabrication to the truth. 

The door clicked shut with Skids still leaning on it. Groaning, he slid down to the floor, knees tucked up and the oily chamois giving him some modesty over his exposed interface. 

With the danger avoided, Swerve raised off the spike, its sound getting softer as the mechanisms were freed from his weight. Soon enough the cylindrical device was rolling haphazardly about the berth, whining softly. 

Swerve chuckled, his smile lopsided and full of sympathy. 

“Well at least it works!”

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are closed at this time.


End file.
